


In The End, There's What?!

by Medie



Category: Highlander: The Series, Wiseguy
Genre: Crossover, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-22
Updated: 2010-02-22
Packaged: 2017-10-07 11:43:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vinnie Terranova stumbles into the biggest clusterfuck of his life. This should be <i>fun</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In The End, There's What?!

*

Vinnie always thought Amy was too classy to be working for a lowlife like Morgan Walker, too classy for the life and the business, thought it practically from the moment he walked into Walker's office and stared into cool, unfriendly blue eyes. And not just because of the accent, though that's not hurting her case any.

Amy can recite anything from the multiplication tables to dirty limericks about girls from Nantucket and make it sound like the classiest thing Vinnie's ever heard.

Next to Walker and his business, selling women like second-hand Caddys, Amy looks like the fucking queen of England. Vinnie's known a lot of slimeballs in his time but Morgan Walker takes it to a whole new level. The man _enjoys_ his work. Amy doesn't fit the picture, she's too good for this and it gets under Vinnie's skin like a splinter, bugging him. He wonders about it to Frank who laughs and tells him to quit thinking with his dick. The boys at the Bureau all swear Vinnie picked up some of Mel Profitt's magic hoodoo. It's the best explanation going for all the Amy Thomas types that keep crossing his path.

Vinnie doesn't argue, doesn't think he can. She's not Susan but Amy's got plenty of her own ghosts and her own secrets. They follow her around like shadows and teasing him with hints of what might be the truth.True, she's too good for Walker and his business but the lady's hiding something big. That tattoo she's sporting on her wrist is no Spring Break special, no matter what she says about it. The effort that Amy puts into convincing him belies the colorful and carefree story that she conjures up to explain it away to him.

He gets enough of a look at it to replicate the design on a napkin and tucks it away for safekeeping. Sooner or later he'll track down the source of the damn thing and that's good enough for him.

Either way, he decides to take the fact she even bothers to try lying to him as a good sign. Most would just get one of those withering looks that Amy's known for. She's five foot nothing but nobody messes with her, that cold, shrewd look in her eyes dismisses most trouble before she has to say a thing.

She's more Morgan Walker's gatekeeper than she is his assistant, Amy keeps things moving, and the OCB's right when they peg her as the best way into his operation.

They also insist she's the quickest but, after a few months of trying, Vinnie's not so sure about that one.Amy laughs at his corny jokes and smiles when he brings her flowers on his way to a meeting with Walker but there's a distance in her eyes. When they're together, he sometimes wonders if she's not the one keeping tabs on _him_, reporting back to Walker.

That's confirmed, somewhat, when he finally gets her to agree to dinner, and she reveals over tiramisu that she agreed at Walker's behest. He's getting his tires kicked and Amy's been doing the kicking on her boss's behalf. The agent in him's smug but he's disappointed.

"Vincent Terranova," she says, testing out his name like she's savoring a fine liqueur. With that accent, she makes him sound as classy as she looks in her white sweater and pearls. "He needs you," she admits. "Your connections are quite impressive, not to mention extensive. You know they'd be an asset to anyone but especially a man in Morgan's position. He needs you more than you need him."

Which is true enough, while Walker's not an unknown commodity in their world, he's not a particularly respected one. Nobody wants to admit they deal with him. He provides a service but there's no getting around the fact the man's a modern-day slave trader. Vinnie knows his connections are a shot at a kind of legitimacy that Morgan Walker needs and needs _bad_.

"That's nothing I didn't already know," Vinnie answers, with a grin. "No offense, Amy, but your boss is a scuzzball."

She laughs. "And that, Mr. Terranova, is nothing _I_ didn't already know." He watches her sit back, fingering the stem of her wine glass. "The man is the worst sort of slime."

"Vinnie," he corrects, easily. "And if you think that, then mind me asking what the hell you're doing working for him? I hated a guy this much, I'd have an interesting time working for him like you do."And she does hate Walker, he's not misinterpreting that one. Amy hides it well but he knows what he's looking for and he can see the hate in her eyes.

Amy smiles, her slender fingers tracing the tattoo on her wrist. "A million reasons, Vinnie, and none of which you would believe."

*

Vinnie still blushes, Amy's charmed by the fact she can make him _blush_. He's a man quite capable of killing her easily and yet he reddens when she teases him. It's almost as incomprehensible as the fact that she _does_ tease him. It's been so long since she's known anyone show any genuine emotion and even longer since she felt free enough to tease someone about it. Honest emotion's been in short supply from the moment this assignment began and she's surprised how much she misses it now.

As much as she enjoys his honesty, Vinnie Terranova's presence has been as much worry as relief.

She knows who he is and the fact that he's an undercover federal agent is no threat to an Immortal like Morgan. In his eyes, Vinnie is just another mortal that will be forgotten by history. Whether it takes a day, a month, a century, it's all the same to Morgan.

He will kill Vinnie, she knows that with as much certainty as she knows anything, it's only a question of when. Perhaps a question of why.

Amy's never been entirely happy with life as a Watcher but this is the first time that she's hated it.

"I'm sorry," she says when he holds an umbrella over her head.

"For what?"

Amy just smiles and kisses him. "Something else you'd never believe me if I told you."

*

Morgan Walker is a sorry excuse for a human being but Vinnie's got to hand it to him that Amy always looks like a million bucks. She interrupts a meeting and Vinnie's eyes track her across the room, watching her hand Morgan a sheaf of papers to be signed. He's never seen her anything but dressed to the nines in designer originals that make already enticing curves damn near impossible to ignore and Vinnie's convinced, the way Morgan watches her too, that it's deliberate.

Not that Amy needs the help, she could dress in a potato sack and look like a Rockefeller.

Morgan grins at him when she passes Vinnie by, the scent of her perfume making it hard for the OCB agent not to follow her. "You seem like a man with an eye for beauty, Mr. Terranova," he comments with a sanguine air.

It's a second before Vinnie really pays attention, a second in which he exchanges a faint smile with the departing woman. "You make it difficult not to notice, Morgan," he responds, trying for good humor when he really wants to punch the man's teeth down his throat.

"Beauty is my business," Morgan agrees. "Such as it can be with that lot." He looks annoyed by his own words. "It's a wonder they stay as they are long enough to make a profit." He chuckles. "Not that you'd understand, of course, you've the same problem facing you."

There are moments when Vinnie thinks Morgan Walker could give Mel Profitt a run for his money in the whack job department and it seems this is going to be one of them. "Problem like what?"

"Time, Mr. Terranova," Morgan smirks. "You lot have so little of it, it's a wonder you get anything done." He scrawls his signature across a paper. "If you wish to indulge yourself in beauty, very well, but I must caution you. That one is hardly worth the trouble of effort," he pushes a paper aside, "there are a thousand more where she came from with far less irritation attached."

It's not a threat, it's not even all that ominous, but something about the whole exchange puts a chill down Vinnie's spine anyway.

_"I'm sorry," _Amy's onetime apology comes to mind and he swallows.

The son of a bitch is going to kill him.

*

Amy shivers in the cool Parisian morning, hugging her coat firmly about her middle, and turns to face her contact. "What is it?" She asks, tone a shade frostier than the air around them. "This is a risk," she points out, "you've seen my reports." She closes her eyes and for a second she sees the model's face when the bullets strike.

Morgan didn't pull the trigger but she knows he might as well have.

She presses her lips together, hugging herself harder, when she sees the expression on Joe's face. Leaning on his cane, he looks across the Seine and she winces. He's not handling her knowing the truth well but neither is she. Taking it out on him's neither right, nor fair, but it's not as if she's had success stopping herself either. She blinks back sudden, unwelcome tears and turns her face into the slight breeze. "I'm sorry," she apologizes softly. "The matter of the murder plus, the undercover agent is proving to be quite trying."

Joe's expression tightens unexpectedly and he nods. "Yeah, right, that Terranova kid." He turns back. "He can handle himself, Amy, so that makes him the least of your worries right now." She frowns, not quite sure why she's suspicious but she is. "Walker ran into Benjamin Adams."

Amy thinks quickly, and then nods. "Of course," she murmurs, sucking in a quick breath. "He was quite irritable when he came back from the club the other day. Damn! I should've been with him, I missed that."

"You can't risk blowing your cover," Joe reminds too sharply. "Walker gets a _hint_ you're anything but an assistant, he's not going to think twice. You're either a cop or you're worse and in his world - "

"Joe," Amy smiles wryly, "A sloppy Watcher is a dead Watcher, you know that so well as I. They all but pound that into us at the Academy." Rubbing her arms briskly, she frowns. "Vinnie's no idea what he's landed himself in the middle of, Walker's going hunting he'll be --"

"Fine." Joe chuckles. "Terranova's no choirboy, Amy, he's been doing this longer than you and he can take care of himself. Hell, he can take care of _you_ and that's precisely what you should do if this goes south. From what I hear, he's got a white knight complex the size of the Eiffel Tower and if Morgan Walker turns on you -- "

She frowns. "I'm on my own. I'm not dragging him into this. He's _no_ idea what he's up against."

"But he suspects," her father cautions. "Undercover agent that good? He suspects something even if his brain won't let him go there yet. You listen to me, Amy, if Walker comes after you that's what you do. You two run."

Amy glances at her watch. "I have to go."

*

"You know something," Vinnie murmurs into Amy's ear and she laughs, he doesn't miss the hint of bitterness in the sound. He loves listening to her laugh, it doesn't happen often enough, and he can hear the subtle difference. Something's wrong all right and she knows exactly what it is.

"I know a lot of things," she affects a superior air and looks up at him, gorgeous as all hell in the light. There's something he would've called mischief in her gaze but there's too much sadness tonight for that description. "I'll have you know that despite the fact I'm a glorified errand girl for a despot, I am a highly-educated woman."

He can't stop the wry grin. They still play their games but neither one of them play when it comes to Walker anymore. "Yeah, yeah, I hear you, genius. You know a hell of a lot, that's for damn sure, and you know what I meant, Ames. Something's gone screwy with Walker and you know what it is." He taps the tip of her nose then rests his hand on her shoulder. "I can help." This is not the conversation a guy in Paris with a pretty girl is supposed to be having. He's had way too many conversations just like this in his career. There'll probably be a lot more.

"No, you can't." Reaching up, she strokes his cheek and looks just a little lost. "Go back to the States, Vincent Terranova. Tell your employers at the OCB this was a bust and forget you were ever here." He freezes with the shock of his cover being so casually blown apart, part of his mind running over every conversation he's had with her, with Walker, with anyone connected to this. "You're so far in over your head I couldn't even begin to explain how much."

"Amy," he grabs for her hand but she pulls free.

"He doesn't know, Vinnie," she assures him quietly. "And he won't know, not if I have any say in the matter. One of us should make it out of this alive." Amy's gaze drops to her wrist. "I've known for a while it wouldn't be me."

"What the hell is going on here, Amy?" He demands. "How the fuck did you know that?"

She laughs and shakes her head. "The same way I know everything, the same thing you still won't believe."

"Why not?!" Vinnie snaps. "What's so goddamned mysterious that I won't get it? What the hell are you hiding, Amy?"

She shrugs casually. "The truth."

Strangling her would be too easy, he decides. Plus, Ma wouldn't like it one bit if he went and whacked a lady like Amy. Hell, she'd take one look at Amy and have the grandkids' names picked out before he even got around to saying her name. If Vinnie weren't so pissed off with her, he's pretty sure _he_ would be picking out the baby names.

The face of a little girl with her mother's temper appears in his head and disappears just as quickly. Like he needs to be thinking of _that_ now.

"Amy," he grips her shoulders tightly, loosening his grip when she winces and he realizes just how tightly. "Look, I know whatever the fuck is going on here, it's got something to do with that snazzy body art of yours. Not to mention the meetings, the phone calls," he grins. "You think I wouldn't recognize the routine?"

She lifts a brow.

"Oh come _on_, Ames," he blinks. "You know all that about me and you still think I'm that bit of a moron?" He steps back, waving a hand. "Nevermind. Just quit the bullshit, 'you wouldn't understand' and tell me what the hell it is that you're mixed up in. What's Walker's game here?"

To his surprise, she laughs. It's a genuinely amused sound that he thinks he could listen to for days. It also makes no sense whatsoever but how's that new? Amy's been nothing but one mystery after another for months.

Her amusement fading, she folds her arms tight across her chest. It's a concentrated effort that keeps him from watching the motion with more attention than it deserves. Damn it. "This would be me, Vinnie, trying to save your sorry hide from something you're entirely ill-equipped to combat. This is not about the mob, or drug running, or even the bloody slave trade! It's something older and more dangerous and completely none of our concern!"

Vinnie briefly considers telling her that's never stopped him before but she already knows it, that knowledge is written across her face and fills the snort of annoyance she expels.

"As you would say," she announces, "your bloody funeral!"

"Actually," he counters, "I'd say it a little more creative than that but, yeah, pretty much." If he never believed in miracles before, Vinnie would reconsider based on the fact she doesn't slap him for that one.

*

Morgan's waiting for her at her apartment when she gets back. "Terranova's late for his meeting," he comments, watching her approach with those hawk-eyes of his and Amy's blood turns to ice in her veins. He knows. Her mind seizes with panic until reason sets in and reminds her of what Joe said. He doesn't know about the Watchers, she realizes, he does know about her and Vinnie.

At least, he thinks he knows. "You won't find him here," she manages to say coolly. "And I'm not particularly certain where to look for him. I keep your appointment calendar, not his."

"Oh, dear Amy," Morgan smiles lightly. "You don't even do that anymore." He holds up a small leather-bound book and she sways with nausea. "What's a Watcher?"

She keeps to her feet with Herculean effort. "A what?"

"Watcher." Morgan rises from his seat, Andrew and Leon falling into step behind him. Both his bodyguards look ominously silent and Leon refuses to meet her eyes. _He always liked me_, she thinks with an edge of hysteria on the thought. He always liked her and now, she thinks, he's going to kill her. "You mention it quite often in your journal and I had a rather interesting conversation tonight with a friend of yours. You should have told him not to wait for you carrying such sensitive documents. It was quite a crucial mistake to make but, as your journal says, you are quite new at this." He reaches for her wrist, holding up the tattoo in the porch light. "And to think, you tried to tell me this was nothing more than the result of a night's drinking in Geneva." The chuckle that passes his lips sends a shiver through her. "You might have mentioned it was in celebration of your graduation."

Vinnie's safe, she tells herself and lifts her chin with defiance. "I did." Her grin suggests more bravado than she feels. "I neglected to mention what the graduation was. It is a common technique, mixing lies with just enough of the truth."

"Hmm, it is at that," Walker affirms. "It's certainly afforded me and mine quite some success over the centuries." He yanks her arm and she falls against him, allowing him the chance to slide his free hand along her body. "It is such pity that you've so little time to you, Amy, such a pity. You really are quite lovely for a mortal."

She twists her lips into a sneer. "Fortunately, I cannot say the same for you. One wishes Immortality were truly bestowed on the worthy. You would have been dead centuries ago but," she pauses for effect, remembering what Joe told her. "From what I hear you aren't likely to live much longer. I read up on you, Morgan, and I imagine that the good Doctor Adams is very much looking forward to a chance to finish you once and for all."

"Actually, it seems quite the opposite." Morgan looks annoyed. "The man insists on avoiding a conflict."

Amy considers it, thinking of the look on Joe's face when he said the name. "Somehow, I don't think that's going to last."

Morgan chuckles. "Should I be so lucky," he turns toward the car, dragging her along with him. "Come now, Amy, you and I have much to discuss - especially in relation to a certain gentleman by the name of Dawson."

*

"Uncle Mike?" The name slips out almost incidentally. It's been years since he saw him, years since he 'retired' and someone else took the job but it's his voice Vinnie still expects to hear when he calls in. The voice he's always surprised isn't on the other end of the line.

Leaning on his cane, 'Mike' looks haggard and Vinnie feels the cold fingers of dread creep in around his heart. "It's good to see you again, Vinnie." He can't help it but hearing that voice again puts Vinnie at ease, though he can tell it shouldn't. "Wish to hell it was better circumstances behind it."

"No offense, Mike, but I gotta ask it - what the hell are you doing here? Cause it's been years and I didn't think Paris'd really be your kinda town." Wherever retired agents went to hang out, Vinnie was pretty sure France wasn't high on the list of potential destinations.

"Well now, you'd be surprised what kind of town I like hanging out in but that's a conversation I really don't have time to be having right now." Mike grins.

"And the name's Joe. Joe Dawson. At least, that's my _real_ name. Never did get around to telling OCB otherwise." Mike - no, _Joe_ \- moves farther into the room. "I'll tell you the rest when Amy's safe."

"Amy?" Vinnie shoves the thousand other questions and grabs for that one. "What's wrong?"

Joe sighs. "Walker knows."

"Knows _what_?!" Vinnie grits out the question with every bit of restraint he's got and a whole lot more he doesn't. Nobody warned him he was going to have to surrender straight answers (or what passes for them in his world) at customs. Every single person he's met in this fucking country's done nothing but dance around the truth and patronize him to hell and back while they do it.

It's gotten damn old.

"I swear to God, Mike, somebody better start giving me some answers here or I'm finding the nearest river and throwing somebody in it."

"Not the Seine," Joe tells him. "Though, if you're in the mood when Adam gets here, feel free to give him a toss."

"All depends on the toss," a new voice comments dryly and an unfamiliar man sails into the room.

"I told you to wait in the car," Joe frowns and receives a careless shrug in response. "_Adam_."

"You forgot to crack a window," 'Adam' smirks. "I nearly suffocated."

"You'd get better." Joe snorts.

Starting to get a headache, Vinnie wonders if shooting them would be too much of a mess for OCB to deal with because _seriously_. "Will one of you two please tell me what the fuck is going on?"

"Why?" Adam shoots back. "Confounded and confused is _such_ a good look on you."

"Hey Vinnie," Joe looks over. "You carrying?"

"You breathing?" Vinnie counters.

"Good, can I borrow a bullet?"

"Won't do you any good, Joe." Adam grins.

"Make me feel better." Joe mocks. "And if it doesn't? I get to do it again and again and again. Best part about you guys. You're nothing but walking, talking stress relievers like those little balls the shrinks give you, but with legs."

"Look," Vinnie steps in. "Whatever the hell kind of lover's quarrel you two've got going? Can we park it long enough for Joe here to tell me just what the hell happened to Amy?"

"Oh _that_," Adam says dismissively. "She's bait."

"For?"

"Me."

Vinnie blinks. "Who the hell would want to trade anybody for you?"

Adam looks wounded. "You'd be surprised."

"Yeah," Joe agrees. "He would actually. Then again, he's not the only one."

"Ouch," Adam grabs at his chest. "Really, Joe, must you?"

"Believe me," Joe glares. "I must. This is my daughter we're talking about Me-Adam."

"Your _WHAT?!_" Vinnie pales. Oh, Jesus, Mary and Joseph. He is so screwed.

*

Amy can't believe how this has turned out. She wills herself to resist the urge to yank against Walker's grip, knowing it will serve no benefit but to anger him and she's not quite that dense. She's dense enough to end up as the stereotypical damsel in distress (a fact she intends to get herself thoroughly drunk over) but she's not quite so dense as to end up the stereotypical _dead_ damsel in distress.

"All this for a fight?" She asks rhetorically, not expecting an answer.

"All this for a woman," Walker scowls darkly. "All this for a woman who was stolen from me by the acquaintance of your friend, Mr. Dawson."

She remembers the woman, reading about her at least. She knows Charlotte died by Walker's hand and also knows he blames Benjamin Adams for it. Knowing it isn't wise to point out the sheer idiocy of that logic, she squares her shoulders. "This would be where you expect me to make some ill-considered comment about you getting away with this?"

"I suppose it would be that moment indeed," Walker agrees. "I expect you do have one?"

Amy rolls her eyes. "I'll consider Mr. Adams' blade at your throat to be my final remark, thank you." Immortals. There are times she can't quite understand what all the fuss is about, really. From what she's seen of them thus far, they aren't a particularly thrilling lot. "I suspect it may make for quite a show."

"Oh yes, I suspect it will as well," he grins. "I'll enjoy that Quickening."

She bites her tongue and doesn't say what she's thinking. The dead don't enjoy much of anything, really. Especially not when one enters eternity knowing shuffling off the immortal coil has done nothing but render another Immortal particularly...happy.

It's quite the final indignity and she can't think of a man who deserves it more.

*

An abandoned factory in the middle of nowhere. Course it would be that. Vinnie steps out of the car, looks down to see mud seeping into his several hundred dollar shoes. "Nice."

He scrapes it off on the car and grins at the look of annoyance Adam throws his way. After the drive with Ozzie and Harriet, he's willing to take his petty amusements where he can get them. Besides, he's got a feeling Amy will appreciate the humor.

Thinking of her sends the anger surging through him again and he straightens up. She's in there somewhere and somebody's going to pay if she's got so much as a fucking hangnail. Walker's little business doesn't matter a damn anymore, not in comparison with this.

"Don't worry about the boys at the OCB," Joe tells him, grinning almost maliciously. "These days, I'm the one calling the shots."

"I even wanna know how?"

Joe holds up his arm and pulls down his sleeve. An older, faded version of Amy's tattoo winks out at him. "No, you don't."

"Brilliant," he grouses. "Just fucking brilliant. Whatever that's about? Don't tell me. Please, don't tell me." He reaches for his gun. "Whatever the fuck's going on here? I really don't give a shit anymore. Let's just go get Amy and get out of here before I lose my mind and shoot the two of you."

"Him first," Joe grins. "That one I wanna see."

They take a minute to plan out a little strategy for all the good it'll do them. Vinnie's done this sort of thing before, it always goes to hell no matter what the plan is, but he still listens. They still haven't told him the truth, he's not sure if they ever will, and he's heard enough aborted comments, and half-explanations on the way here, to know Amy's right. He's so far in over his head he can't even hope to see daylight anytime soon, and if these two know what the hell is going on then paying attention could very well save his life. If not his then it may save Amy's, and he'd listen to them read the fucking phone book if he thought it could do that.

The sun's slipping down over the horizon when they enter the building and part company. Adam in one direction, Joe in another, and Vinnie in yet another. They're not expecting a lot of resistance, most of it's lying dead in a warehouse two towns over, but he's not stupid enough to count Walker completely out. He keeps one hand on his gun, and his eyes open, as he tries his best not to blunder his way through the dimly lit building. Falling flat on his face at Walker's feet would be a great way to finish this up, but Amy's got enough ammo with him now.

The sound of Joe's voice, echoed by Walker's, draws him in the right direction and there's Amy held tight in the bastard's arms with a gun to her head. Vinnie reminds himself there's a chance he'd hit her if he fired, that's all that stays his hand.

"Just the two of you then?" Walker muses to Joe and Adam, giving Amy a twist in his arms. "It would appear your gallant rescuer isn't nearly as heroic as he would have us to believe. Oh well, it seems this is our night for dashed expectations, isn't it Joe?" He nods at Adam. "The good doctor was supposed to be temporarily incapacitated."

"Like you said, dashed expectations," Joe says dryly. "We'll have a little talk about Santa Claus later."

"Let the girl go," Adam says, pulling something out of his coat.

When Vinnie was a kid back home in the neighborhood, some pirate movie came out one summer and he spent two months buckling a swash up and down the street. That's about as close as he ever came to a real sword until he gets a look at what the man's holding.

"The hell?" he breathes in shock, surprised as Amy's flung into Joe's arms in time for Walker to produce one as well.

His voice apparently carries as Walker looks up with a faintly manic grin. "Well, you're here after all, Mr. Terranova." He looks to Amy. "Well, it would appear chivalry is not nearly as centuries cold as I thought."

Amy pulls herself from Joe's tight hug and looks over his shoulder at Vinnie's face. "You're not supposed to be here," she says with a little grin.

"Oh, you thought I was supposed to listen to _you_?" He says, stepping forward with a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. He must look like the biggest idiot walking but Vinnie doesn't care. She's safe and, whatever the fuck Adam is planning on doing with that sword, Vinnie almost feels sorry for Walker. Adam is a type he recognizes, the type that don't look like much and makes it hurt like a son of a bitch before its all said and done.

Yeah, he _almost_ feels sorry for Walker.

"Take a walk, Joe," Adam says. "Take the young lovers with you."

Vinnie opens his mouth to protest but, sees the amused look the other man sends his way, thinks better. "Watch where you put the pigsticker," he says instead.

"Oh believe me," Adam gives it a twirl and then smirks. "I intend to watch with great interest."

Vinnie grins again, turning to lead Joe and Amy out. He doesn't complain in the least when Amy presses close, just wraps an arm around her shoulders, and kisses the top of her head. "Next time you wanna dramatic moment," he suggests, "let's avoid the daring rescues. I'm a disaster at those."

She smiles up at him and it's the best thing he's seen in years. "I know."

*

Amy's waiting for the reaction so when the Quickening hits and Vinnie spins away from her to stare back at the building in shock, she doesn't go sprawling in the mud.

"What the fuck was that?!" he demands and she manages to withhold her laughter.

"The rather impressive climax of the story," she answers politely and looks at her father. "You didn't tell him?"

"Didn't seem like the right time to try and explain that." Joe shrugs. "It's a conversation meant to be had over at least one bottle of whiskey and we had no whiskey."

"You might have _mentioned_ it," she chides, grinning. "And that, Vinnie, is part of what I couldn't tell you." Her grin widens. "I said you wouldn't believe me."

"I'm not sure I believe it _now_," Vinnie shakes his head. "You two feel like sharing now? I'm sick and tired of being the only one in this damn mess who hasn't got a clue what the hell is really going on."

"We tell you" Joe warns, "and you may wish you were still the only one that didn't have a clue about what's really going on."

"Believe me," Vinnie says, expression exasperated. "I'm willing to take the chance."

Amy smiles at him and shrugs. "We'll need that whiskey first."

*

When they finish telling him, Vinnie rocks back on his chair and feels it thud against the wall. He sits there for a moment, chair perched on two legs, eying the shotglass in his hand before saying, "I am not drunk enough to be hearing this."

Adam holds up a bottle. "You're not the only one," he says filling Vinnie's, "I'm not drunk enough to be hearing it and I _am_ Immortal."

"How old _are_ you anyway?" Vinnie asks, eyeing him suspiciously

Joe snorts into his whiskey, splashing it on the table, and Adam sends a dour look his way. "Sorry," Joe sputters, wiping his mouth. "Must've gone down wrong or something."

Sitting between them, Vinnie's pretty sure he just stumbled into one hell of a private joke but Amy's shrugging at him like she doesn't know, so he leaves it alone. "Okay, bad question." He decides, moving on. "How the hell does it work?"

"Beats the hell out of us," Joe shrugs. "We've never been able to figure that one out and, if the Immortals know, they're not telling."

"We don't," says Adam. "Make a tidy little profit for ourselves if we did," he grins. "Well, we'd _want_ to, but really, as a race we're rather painfully shy."

"Beautiful," Vinnie leans forward, letting his chair hit the floor with a loud thump, and rests his arms on the table. "So, bunch of people running around the planet, living forever until they get their heads chopped off by other Immortals." He nods. "If I hadn't seen that fancy light show of yours, Pierson, I'd think I'd finally gone off the deep end." Thinking for a second, he snorts. "Who am I kidding, I _still_ think that."

"We all do at first," Amy assures, smiling.

"You didn't," he points out.

She waves a hand. "I don't count, I grew up with this. For most, the Watchers are a family business, but there is still a large percentage of us who come to the organization after an encounter with an Immortal."

"Like me," Joe says. "In my case, my squad leader carried me out of the jungle after," he waves at his legs. "Which is all well and good, except I saw the guy die in an attack. He dropped me off with the medics and disappeared. I ran into him a few years ago in the States, he hadn't aged a day."

"Must've been using that cream my mother likes," Vinnie mutters, throwing back another drink.

Joe grins. "Doubt it; I've met your mother. Cort? Not that good looking."

"Nice save," Vinnie tips the glass at him, grinning. "God, it's good to see you." His head still wants to call him 'Mike' but that wasn't even Joe's real name then.

"Good to be seen," Joe nods. "Didn't want to retire but," he sighs. "Watchers go where the Immortals are and I got pushed up the ladder."

"Demoted if you ask me," Adam grins. "From Connor to Duncan? Who'd you piss off?"

"He hears you say that -- "

Amy rolls her eyes. "Please, not _that_ again."

"Not what?" Vinnie asks with a furrow of his brow.

"There are two Immortals, Highlanders, they're clansmen and, well, there's a debate amongst the Watchers as to which is better," Amy looks chagrined. "Joe is the only Watcher who's been assigned to them both."

"Is technically still assigned to the second one." Joe adds. "Duncan."

Vinnie shrugs. "Okay, so what's the big deal about them?"

"They're both exceptionally strong game players in their own way," Amy elaborates. It's going to take a while before Vinnie can think of the 'game playing' and associate it with 'beheading'. It's creepy as hell they can do it so easily. "Connor prefers to go after the more _unpleasant_ Immortals while Duncan -- "

"Head-whore," Adam smirks.

Joe groans. "Adam, keep this up and Mac's going to add a new one to his collection."

"I can take him," Adam adds, filling his glass. "I just like letting him think otherwise. It appeals to his ego."

"You're drunk," Joe takes the bottle from him.

"Am not," Adam protests, saluting them with the bottle. "Post-Quickening euphoria. It'll pass just as soon as I find a hot redhead and a bed." He gets up and claps Vinnie on the back. "Thanks for the laughs, kiddo. Try not to end up in cement galoshes huh?"

Vinnie watches him go, fumbling into his long coat as he threads through the tables. "He kidding?"

"Hell no," Joe chuckles. "Remember, he was around when they still did that."

"What the hell am I in the middle of?" Vinnie bemoans, turning to look at the two Watchers.

Amy dimples. "Something I warned you to stay out of."

He groans. "Kick a man while he's down why don't you?"

"Oh no," Joe shakes his head, "if she were doing that? She'd wait until the hangover."

"Who says I won't?" Amy asks, arching a slim brow.

Vinnie grins at the thought, and thinks it's a really good thing Joe doesn't catch on. It'd be a hell of a thing to survive today, just to get himself killed for falling for the wrong girl. Even if she's got the prettiest eyes on two continents.

And _now_ he's drunk.

*

Amy emerges from the bar and stops, closing her eyes. "I didn't handle that well," she admits, sighing.

"Don't think you're supposed to," Vinnie says. She opens her eyes to see him step guiltily out of the shadows. "You all right? Looked pretty bad in there."

She smiles, sad. "I'm fine. It's just -- " Amy waves a hand, gesturing back at Joe. "I didn't know for _years_ who he really was, who I thought my father really was, and now I'm supposed to know what to do?"

Vinnie looks back and she can see the understanding dawning. "So, back before -- "

"Growing up I thought someone else was my father." Opening her umbrella, Amy's not surprised when he takes it for her but she doesn't fight it. She doesn't care, right now anyway, it feels nice. "I still _do_, actually."

He sighs, letting her lead them down the street. "Geez."

Amy looks up at him, watching the street lights play over his face, and she thinks he's the best kind of trouble. It's _typical_. "You probably know my father better than I do."

He snorts a laugh. "You kiddin' me? Ten years and I just found out the guy's real name."

"And that," she points out, "is apparently all I've ever known."

Vinnie stops her in an archway, holding her hands loosely in his. "You get to know more now."

She looks at him, older than her years, and smiles sadly. "I'm not sure I want to."

He grins and kisses her. "Yeah you do, you're just too damn stubborn to admit it."

Amy scrunches her nose and looks at him. "What am I going to do with you?"

Vinnie leers. "I got a couple ideas."

She hits him for that; his mother would approve.


End file.
